To Love and to Cherish (5 page)

The line of buggies stretched as far back as Thomas could see. He reined in the roan a little. She kept trying to pick up the pace as the funeral procession moved slowly behind the wagon carrying the caskets. Thomas, too, would have liked to hurry—hurry to find a way to be close to Emma. To provide her with support, if nothing else. Finally they made the turn and entered the cemetery. Eli and Rebecca fidgeted on the seat behind him. “We’re here.”

“Finally.” Eli leaped down.

“Son, behave yourself. This is a sad occasion. Children are not to be heard.”

“Jah, Daed.” Eli threw the words back as he trotted away, probably looking for Mark and the twins. Knowing Eli’s kind nature, he would try to make them feel better with a little story or the pretty, smooth pebbles he’d picked up along the creek.

Thomas tied the reins to the hitching post and swung Rebecca to the ground. Without a word she put her hand in his, and together they made their way through the gathering crowd. She’d been quiet since he’d told her about the deaths of their neighbors. Ruth Shirack had
always been so nice to his children, treating them like they belonged to her brood. At six, Rebecca was too young to remember her own mother. “Are you all right, Rebecca?”

She nodded, her face solemn. “Is this where my mudder is?”

Even after four years, his heart twisted. “Jah.”

She stared up at him, so like Joanna with her blue eyes and the dark hair that wreathed her head under her kapp. “Can I see her?”

He cleared his throat. “You can see her gravestone.”

“Will William and Ruth see her in heaven?”

“Jah, I believe they will.”

Her small fingers tightened around his. “Good.”

They reached the spot where the Shiracks would be buried next to William’s parents and the baby they’d lost many years ago. Thomas wanted to stand close to Emma. She looked pale, worn-out, and surprisingly fragile for a woman who had always struck him as solidly planted on the ground. He wanted to put an arm around her, or at least hold her small hand in his big one. Give her comfort. Let her lean on him a little. He wanted to be the one she turned to in both sadness and in celebration. He wanted small, private moments shared only by the two of them.

Stop
. Thinking along those lines when she had shown not a sliver of interest in him was dangerous. Wanting something he could not have would only lead to discontent and hurt. Even so, he found himself seeking her face in the group of women on the other side of the bishop. She stood in a row with her sisters. William and Ruth could be proud. Their daughters stood tall, shoulder to shoulder, with quiet dignity. Emma’s face was still, her wet eyes averted, and she made no sound as the pallbearers lowered the caskets into the ground. The dull thud of the clods of dirt on the wood filled the silence.

Thomas bowed his head as the midday sun beat down on them. Flies buzzed in the breathless heat. The bishop’s voice carried across the rows upon rows of plain, white headstones. The cemetery offered a nice place to rest. Thomas always took comfort in that thought. Joanna rested in good company here.

The bishop’s voice encouraged them to pray silently. Then his voice ceased. The service had ended.

Rebecca tugged at his hand. “Now, Daed, now can we see Mudder?”

He nodded and turned toward the west. “As soon as we pay our respects.”

Rebecca in tow and Eli not far behind, he threaded his way through the crowd until he was close enough to get Emma’s attention. Her smile encompassed all three of them. “Thank you for all your help, Thomas.” She rested a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming. I hope you’ll join us for the meal back at the house.”

“We’re going to see my mudder’s grave first,” Rebecca replied. “She’s visiting with your mother in heaven now.”

Emma met Thomas’ gaze over the little girl’s head. “That’s a nice thought—”

Her already pale face blanched and her eyes opened wide. Thinking she might faint, Thomas started forward, hands outstretched. She shook her head. “It’s…it’s him.”

Thomas swiveled to follow her gaze. An oddly familiar figure stood several yards from the crowd now dispersing. Thomas peered at the man, whose tilted head allowed the shadow of his hat to obscure his face. As if he knew they’d spotted him, the man stepped from the shade of a huge oak tree.

It couldn’t be. He’d been gone for four years.

Carl Freiling had returned.

E
mma plucked a shirt from the laundry basket and shook it out harder than necessary. It felt good to do ordinary tasks, to leave behind the wrenching duties involved in burying loved ones. The sun shone on her face. She soaked it up, along with the smell of freshly cut grass that Annie had mowed that morning.

She hung the shirt on the clothesline and smoothed it out. Work soothed her. It helped her think of something besides Carl standing in the cemetery. How could he show up at her parents’ burial? Because of his decision to leave the Plain way of life he couldn’t approach the gathering, and she had fled without speaking to him. A week had gone by and there’d been no further sign of him.

Why had he come back? Would the bishop let him stay? The questions swirled in her head, no answers to be had. It didn’t matter, really. He probably wouldn’t stay. Even if he did intend to ask the bishop to allow him to return to the Plain ways, that didn’t mean anything still existed between them. Absolutely not. Of course not.

Yet, her heart hurt. Seeing him had brought back all the memories—and with them the pain—of his abandonment. He’d arrived at the house in the early morning, odd in itself. He wore no hat and a belt adorned his pressed slacks instead of suspenders. The world tilted even before he began to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said. Those first words slammed the door shut on their future. After a while, the words didn’t register anymore. He was leaving. Not just her, his family, and the community. After being baptized, he had changed his mind about being Amish. She managed to choke out one question. “Why?”

His answer baffled her. “I have to see what’s out there. I’m suffocating here.”

She wasn’t enough to keep him here. His
faith
wasn’t enough to keep him here. He’d left, taking with him her ability to trust. For four years, she’d avoided getting close to anyone. There had been a few men along the way who’d tried. More than one offer of a ride home after a singing. Even an occasional flashlight in the window. She’d found herself unable to return these overtures for fear of suffering the awful hurt and sense of betrayal again. She couldn’t go through it again. So she’d rebuffed the advances. Kindly. Carefully. Not wanting to hurt the way she’d been hurt. No one had persisted. And that was fine with her. Just fine.

Emma swept the memories under a mental rug. No sense in dwelling on the past yet again. She turned to pick up another shirt and caught a glimpse of someone walking toward the road. She straightened and put her hand to her eyes to block the sun. It was Josiah, trudging toward the highway. They’d barely spoken since the incident at the viewing. She’d seen the Kauffman pickup truck in the driveway the next day, but none of them had entered the house, not even to offer condolences.

“Josiah? Josiah! Where are you going?”

He glanced back but kept walking, his long, skinny legs eating up the yards. “To town.”

“It’s a long walk. Why don’t you wait until you can get a ride with Luke?” None of them had broached the subject of getting the old buggy out of the barn. Not yet. “He’s coming by later.”

Josiah’s pace slowed. Then he stopped and turned back to face her. “I’d rather not. Luke always wants to talk about what I will do next. He wants me to take over the blacksmith shop.”

She strode toward him, wanting to close the gap between them.
“It’s a good job and Luke loves that shop. It would allow us to keep it open and in the family.”

Josiah shook his head. “I don’t want to be inside all day. I need to work outdoors. I’m a farmer. Like Daed.”

Emma could understand that. “Then that’s what you should tell Luke, instead of avoiding him.”

“It’s not just that. I want to study farming. There are better ways to do this. Ways that will make us more self-sufficient. I need more education.”

More education. The teacher in Emma struggled to tame a shameful pride. Her scholar thirsted for knowledge. She cast her pride aside. “What you need to know about farming you have learned here, in the fields, with Daed and Luke. If you want to learn more you can read books from the library.”

Josiah smiled for a second. “You are forever faithful, schweschder, I respect that.”

“I have days when I’m not sure.”

Josiah looked beyond her to the fields. “I have to go.”

“Where?”

“To the harness shop.”

“You’ll talk to Miriam, then.” A flicker of hope flamed inside Emma. Perhaps he would find his way home after all. “She’ll be pleased to see you.”

“Not when she hears what I have to say.”

The flame died. “Are you sure, Josiah?”

“Very sure.”

“Give it time!”

He’d already turned to walk away.

The pain awaiting Miriam bruised Emma’s heart. “Think of her.”

Still, he walked away.

She sighed and went back to hanging up the clothes. She needed Luke’s help with Josiah, and her older brother had his hands full with the farm and trying to sell his house and keep the business running. They would have to talk—soon—but she hated to add to his burden.

“More clothes. You’re getting behind.”

Emma glanced back. Annie traipsed across the yard and plopped another laundry basket in the grass. Emma grabbed the last dress from the first load and pushed the basket toward Annie. “I’m getting there.”

“Good, because there’s more where this one came from.” Annie smiled. She seemed better today, her natural resilience obvious in the way she’d fussed over the biscuits at breakfast, bickered with Catherine about who would wash and who would dry the dishes, and teased Mark about the size of his growing feet. “You sure have been lost in thought today. What are you dreaming about?”

Emma wished she could be as light-hearted as her younger sister. Josiah’s problems confounded her, but even more the death of Mudder and Daed hung over her in a shroud of anger and inability to forgive. Why couldn’t she forgive? She shoved the thought into the far corner with other thoughts too hard to bear. Emma considered her sister’s question. What could she tell her? “Did you know Carl is back?”

Annie eased onto a huge stump that had once been an elm tree felled by tornado-force winds a few summers earlier. “Jah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to stir up old hurts.”

Instead she’d let Emma find out the hard way. Emma grabbed a dress from her basket and shook it out. “You knew I’d run into him sooner rather than later.”

“There’s been much going on here in the last few days. Your old beau wasn’t at the forefront of my thoughts.” Annie’s tone had turned sharp, unusual for someone with her kindness of spirit. “Surely you don’t still pine for him…or do you?”

Emma turned toward the clothesline and let her face bathe in the sun—that way Annie couldn’t see it. She didn’t pine for Carl. As far as she could tell, God’s will for her didn’t involve him. So why did he fill her thoughts every waking moment? “No, of course not.”

“Good.”

How could feeling like this—so full of conflicting emotions—be good? She grabbed a shirt from the top of the new basket and shook out its wrinkles. “Why is it good?”

Annie laughed, a lovely, clean sound. “Because of Thomas, of course.”

What about Thomas? “Thomas?”

“Oh, surely you can’t be that naïve.” Annie clapped her hands together, her face alight with good humor. “Thomas has courting written all over his face every time he looks at you. Everyone knows it. Even Luke, and he’s as dense as this old stump when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Stunned, Emma searched her memories. Attentive, kind, thoughtful. Handsome in a rough-hewn sort of way with tufts of his thick brown hair sticking out from under his hat, dark, intent eyes, and full mouth. Not that she’d studied these things. One simply couldn’t help but notice. A tall man—one you couldn’t miss in a crowd. Truly, it had never seemed to her that he might be interested. It never showed. Thomas was Luke’s friend, like the older brother he would never have. He was definitely older. Several years older than Luke even. Annie suffered from what Daed would call a flight of fancy. “You’re just trying to take my mind off Carl.”

“Actually, it was Mudder who mentioned it.” Annie’s voice trailed off. The light died in her face. She sighed. “She knew Thomas had an interest in you, but Daed said he was too old—”

“He talked to Daed about me?” Emma tackled the new basket of laundry like it might try to fly away. Work was much easier, much simpler than these affairs of the heart. “Why didn’t he say anything to me? Why didn’t anyone mention this to me?”

“Because Thomas is an honorable man. He suspected Daed would object and he would never come between a daughter and her father.” Annie clasped her hands around one knee and rocked back on her stump-turned-chair. “Mudder didn’t want to tell you because she thought it would only make you feel worse. You went through so much with Carl.”

Well. Emma sputtered, unable to think of an adequate response. Daed should have discussed it with her. Mudder should’ve told her. And Thomas. How many times had she looked at her brother’s friend and wondered whether his attempts at conversation—if one could call the
frugal three-word sentences conversation—were meant to signal some kind of interest in her? Thomas was easy on the eyes with a deep voice that he only used when he truly had something to say. He was so steady, so sure. He might have been the one man she could trust with her scarred heart. The fact that he hadn’t persisted in trying to convince Daed stung. If he were truly interested, he would’ve kept their private matters private in the beginning. Courting should be done in private. Only he’d chosen not to court. He hadn’t been interested enough to come to her. Seek her out.